UC-MRLF 


^B  sa?  Msa 


And  the 

Captain 

Answered 


And  the  chief  captain  answered,  With  a  great 
«um  obtained  1  this  freedom.  -  -  -Acts  22:28 


Octave 
Thanet 


ir 


■f.-'-'.ii     t'li/f.    lifcr  i^'t"  V-W^'-V. 


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AND  THE  CAPTAIN  ANSWERED 


And  the 
Captain  Answered 


By 
OCTAVE  THANET 

Author  of 

The  Man  of  the  Hour,  The  Lion's  Share 
By  Inheritance,  etc. 


And  the  chief  captain  answered.  With 
a  great  sum  obtained  I  this  freedom. 

Acts  22:28 


INDIANAPOLIS 

THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


COPYEIGHT   1917 

The  Bobbs-Merrill  CouPAirr 


It  (  'I  <  T    %     < 


■•RCSa    OF 

BRAUNWORTH    *   CO. 

BOOK   MANUFACTURCRa 

BROOKLYN.    N.    V. 


/ 


AND  THE  CAPTAIN  ANSWERED 


»        I      >   >    J      1 

»      >    >   » >    1 

>  1      J      »    , 


>  1 


And  The  Captain 
Answered 

CHAPTER  I 

HER  BOY 

Only  two  members  of  the  bat- 
tery were  outside  the  train,  Cap- 
tain Winthrop  and  Private  Victor 
Hardy.  The  "boys"  had  marched 
through  the  long  wide  streets  of 
the  midwestem  town,  packed  with 
a  black,  swaying,  cheering  mass  of 
their  fellow  citizens,  while  the 
bands  blared  Marching  through 
Georgia  and  the  Star-Spangled 
Banner.     They  had  gathered  be- 


M150479 


AND  THE  CAPTAIN   ANSWEBED 

fore  the  club  house  of  the  town 
and  had  heard  the  men  whom 
they  had  been  reared  to  respect 
praise  them  and  promise  to  guard 
their  families,  a  promise  loyally- 
kept,  by  the  way;  and  mentioned 
here  because  such  promises  are  not 
always  loyally  kept.  Now,  all  were 
aboard  the  cars — or  as  they  liked  to 
phrase  it — entrained,  except  only 
the  Captain  and  Private  Hardy. 
The  Captain  remained  on  the  sta- 
tion platform  the  better  to  be  sure 
every  one  of  his  men  was  safe  on 
the  train.  The  private  who  had 
been  detailed  on  special  duty  had 
just  reported.  ^ 

[Beside  each  of  the  two  soldiers 

2 


AND  THE  CAPTAIN  ANSWERED 

stood  a  pale  and  smiling  woman, 
his  mother.  Mrs.  Winthrop  was 
slender,  tall,  with  a  mist  of  silver 
just  beginning  to  glint  in  her  black 
hair.  The  Captain's  dark  eyes  were 
an  exact  replica  of  her  fine,  dark 
eyes.  Her  bearing  and  voice  were 
charming  and  there  was  about  her 
an  air  of  distinction  and  elegance 
as  much  in  her  person  as  in  her 
careful  toilet.  At  moments  her 
eyes  rested  on  her  son  with  a  flicker 
of  pain,  instantly  dispelled.  She 
talked  only  of  the  lightest,  most 
prosaic  things,  making  a  laugh- 
ing appointment  to  visit  him  be- 
fore long  at  the  camp  in  Des 
Moines.  All  about  her  was  a  surg- 

8 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN  ANSWERED 

ing  background  of  women's  faces, 
under  the  arches  of  the  station  in 
the  glare  and  the  shadows  of  the 
electric  lights;  some  of  the  faces 
sodden  with  tears,  but  most  of  them 
illumined  by  determined  courage. 
Mingled  scantily  with  them  and 
fringing  the  edges  of  the  back- 
ground everywhere  were  men's 
faces,  composed  and  cheerful.  The 
men  in  general  did  not  believe 
there  would  be  war  with  Mexico; 
where  they  were  convinced  of  its 
imminence  they  belittled  its  ef- 
fects, but  the  women,  having  more 
imagination  and  less  logic,  were 
more  deeply  moved. 

The  war  was  very  real  to  Private 

4 


AND  THE  CAPTAIN  ANSWEKEO 

Hardy's  mother.  Hers,  too,  was  a 
figure  and  a  face  to  arrest  the  eye, 
but  her  beauty  was  of  another  type 
than  that  of  the  Captain's  mother; 
softer,  less  assured.  She  was  of 
rather  low  stature  and  of  a  com- 
fortable, not  unwieldy  plumpness. 
Little  tendrils  of  her  soft  brown 
hair  curled  about  her  ears.  One 
could  guess  that  ordinarily  there 
was  a  pretty  rose  flush  on  the  cheek 
so  pale  to-day.  Her  dress  was  as 
neat,  as  tasteful,  as  trig  as  the 
other's.  Only  a  woman's  trained 
eye  would  have  recognized  a  dif- 
ference. She  was  like  hundreds  of 
her  kind  who  are  met  in  literary 
clubs  ardently  listening — often  to 

5 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

women  who  know  less  than  they 
themselves. 

She  had  taken  off  one  glove. 
And  as  she  stood,  unnoticed  by  her 
son,  her  hand  every  now  and  then 
reached  out  and  very  lightly  touch- 
ing a  fold  of  his  khaki,  furtively 
stroked  it.  He  was  a  young  fellow 
of  no  especial  mark,  barely  tall 
enough  to  be  accepted  in  the 
guard,  with  a  plain,  freckled, 
pleasant  face.  A  boy  to  pass  in 
a  crowd,  but  his  mother's  eyes 
rested  on  him  with  the  same  ador- 
ing love,  the  same  high  pride  which 
shone  in  Mrs.  Winthrop's  dark 
eyes  as  they  lingered  on  her  young 
Captain's    splendid    figure.     And 

a 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN  ANSWERED 

when  she  suddenly  looked  from 
him  to  Private  Hardy  and  his 
mother  a  flash  of  sympathy  passed 
between  the  two  women. 

"All  aboard!"  came  the  crisp 
order. 

For  a  second  Mrs.  Hardy  flmig 
her  arms  passionately  about  her 
boy's  neck.  "Rememherr  she 
whispered. 

He  nodded  assent,  but  his  face 
clouded.  Then  she  saw  it  lighten 
and  glow  as,  lifting  his  hand  stiffly, 
he  saluted.  At  the  gesture  she 
turned  and  saw  their  neighbor's 
daughter,  Amy  Carruth,  who  had 
gone  to  High  School  with  Victor. 
To  little  Mrs.  Hardy  the  Carruths 

7 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN  ANSWERED 

represented  a  higher  social  sta- 
tion. Mrs.  Carruth  was  a  widow, 
but  she  kept  two  maids  and  a  gar- 
dener who  on  occasions  donned  cap 
and  gloves  to  guide  the  family  au- 
tomobile. Victor,  his  mother  well 
knew,  admired  Amy  from  afar 
with  infinite  diffidence.  His  fancy 
never  vaulted  to  the  height  of  pay- 
ing her  attention.  Now,  he  smiled 
on  her  as  on  an  equal,  and  although 
rather  an  awkward  lad — ^his  mother 
would  have  denied  such  a  charge 
warmly — he  swung  himself  out 
from  the  moving  platform  and 
with  one  swift  arm  deftly  caught 
the  roses  which  she  threw  him- 
There  was  a  look  in  the  girl's  eyes 

8 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

that  for  him  was  never  there  be- 
fore. That,  also,  his  mother  saw. 
Her  voice  didn't  swell  the  cries  of 
good-by  and  good-luck  which  rat- 
tled among  the  bass-viol  honks  of 
the  motor  horns ;  but  she  waved  her 
handkerchief  and  kept  bravely  the 
stiff  smile  on  her  face  until  the 
train  dwindled  to  a  long  thin  blur 
and  vanished  among  the  switch 
lights  and  the  shadows. 

Then  she  dabbed  at  her  eyes  and 
tried  to  swallow  a  sob,  when  a  hand 
on  her  shoulder,  very  kindly  and 
gentle,  roused  her.  "May  I  take 
you  home,  Mrs.  Hardy?"  asked 
the  Captain's  mother. 

The  private's  mother  turned  and 

9 


AND   THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

one  could  see  that  she  limped  ever 
so  slightly. 

"It  would  be  very  good  of  you, 
Mrs.  Winthrop,"  she  answered 
gratefully.  "I  turned  my  ankle  on 
that  bad  walk  in  front  of  the  Li- 
brary, two  months  ago,  going  out 
of  the  Woman's  Club  in  too  much 
of  a  hurry;  and  it  hurts  still  now 
and  then." 

Mrs.  Winthrop  was  politely 
sympathetic.  Little  Mrs.  Hardy 
felt  a  glow  of  gratitude.  They 
were  two  mothers  who  had  sent 
their  sons  away  to  unknown  dan- 
ger. 


CHAPTER  II 

HER  EXPERIENCES 

"Isn't  war  terrible?"  she  sighed. 

"Yes,"  the  other  agreed,  "but 
sometimes  it  is  necessary."  By  now 
they  were  in  the  machine  moving 
swiftly  and  with  incredible  ease 
and  smoothness  down  the  street.  A 
faint  intangible  perfume  exhaled 
from  the  roses  in  a  little  vase  on 
the  door  panel.  The  soft  summer 
night  air  came  in  through  the  open 
window.  They  could  hear  the 
noises  of  the  street  and  the  talk 
vibrating  with  excitement.    "Oil, 

11 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN  ANSWERED 

tell  me,"  persisted  Mrs.  Hardy, 
"do  you  think  we  shall  really, 
truly  have  a  war — fighting  and 
killing  people?" 

"I  hardly  think  we  shall  this 
time,"  replied  the  other  woman 
very  gravely.  "And  it  would  only 
be  a  little  war,  did  it  come,  but  I 
feel  sure  that  we  shall  have  a  war 
later  and  that  it  will  not  be  a  small 
affair.  Perhaps  it  is  as  well  that 
we  should  have  this  little  one  now." 

"Do  you  mean  we  shall  get  into 
the  war  with  Germany?"  faltered 
Mrs.  Hardy.  "That  would  be  hor- 
rible!" 

"Very  horrible,  but  I  doubt  if  we 
shall  be  able  to  avoid  it." 

12 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

"I  can't  believe  that  war  should 
ever  be  necessary.-  I  hate,  I  hate 
war." 

"I  remember,"  answered  Mrs. 
Winthrop,  "y^^  had  an  eloquent 
paper  before  the  Peace  Depart- 
ment of  the  Woman's  Club.  I 
didn't  agree  with  you,  but  I 
thought  it  a  very — striking  pa- 
per." 

Unconsciously  Mrs.  Hardy  was 
gripping  and  twisting  her  hands. 
A  blur  of  red  stained  her  cheek, 
mounted  to  her  brow. 

"I  wondered,"  mused  Mrs.  Win- 
throp, "what  personal  experience 
of  yours  had  made  you  feel  so — ^in- 
tensely." 

13 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

"Do  you  mind  if  I  tell  you?" 

*Tlease  tell  me,"  said  Mrs.  Win- 
throp  gently. 

"It  was  like  this.  My  father  was 
a  soldier  in  the  Civil  War.  He 
went  as  a  boy  only  eighteen;  and 
he  received  wounds  that  made  him 
an  invalid  for  the  rest  of  his  life.  I 
only  remember  him  as  going  about 
in  a  wheeled  chair.  He  died  when 
I  was  a  very  little  girl." 

"My  husband  told  me  about 
him.  He  was  quite  wonderful.  In 
spite  of  his  affliction,  he  did  so 
much." 

"He  did ;  he  made  a  good  living 
for  his  family.  And  he  was  pa- 
tience itself.    He  didn't  know  of 

14 


AND  THE   CAFTAIN   ANSWERED 

\ 

his  condition  when  he  married  my 
mother;  it  came  on  so  gradually, 
but  she  often  said  that  it  wouldn't 
have  made  a  pin's  difference — she 
loved  him  so  much.  But  she  hated 
war  because  of  what  it  had  done  to 
him ;  and  she  brought  me  up  to  hate 
it.  He  left  us  a  comfortable  little 
fortune,  but  the  man  he  made  ex- 
ecutor without  bond,  because  he 
was  a  prominent  Grand  Army 
man  and  had  fought  all  through 
the  war  and  bragged  all  through 
the  rest  of  his  life,  invested  it  so 
badly  it  was  all  lost  and  mother 
and  I — ^how  we  had  to  pinch  and 
scrape.  I  can  never  forget  how 
mother  would  sit  with  the  tears 

15 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN  ANSWERED 

rolling  down  her  face  and  tell  me 
how  dreadful  was  war! 

"  'Don't  ever  marry  a  soldier!' 
she  would  say;  and  I  promised; 
but  what  good  did  it  do.  My  hus- 
band belonged  to  the  national 
guard.  I  didn't  know  he  was  a 
guardsman,  I  thought  he  was  a 
grocer.  So  he  was,  but  he  belonged 
to  the  guard;  enlisted  for  three 
years.  I  didn't  dream  that  there 
would  be  a  war;  I  was  so  happy 
I  didn't  think  anything  about  it. 
I  hardly  objected  when  he  re- 
enlisted.  His  father,  you  know, 
was  an  old  Grand  Army  man  who 
fought  through  the  Civil  War, 
Captain  Victor  Hardy." 

16 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

"A  very  fine  man,  too," — inter- 
rupted Mrs.  Winthrop. 

"Yes,  a  very  fine  man,"  acqui- 
esced the  other,  a  touch  of  the  bit- 
ter in  her  speech,  "yet  he  has  caused 
me  a  great  deal  of  suffering.  He 
was  always  talking  about  the  coun- 
try ;  and  he  helped  every  old  wreck 
that  came  along  who  pretended  he 
had  been  a  soldier;  and  he  would 
give  little  Victor — ^his  grandson — 
guns  and  toy  soldiers ;  and  he  made 
fun  of  my  peace  principles — oh, 
very  good-natured  fun.  I  didn't 
mind.  Then  the  Spanish  War  came. 
And  my  husband  was  a  guards- 
man. He  had  to  go.  I  knew  then 
how  my  mother  had  felt.   Captain 

17 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN  ANSWERED 

Hardy  was  very  sober,  but  he  was 
willing  that  his  son  should  go;  he 
was  proud.  He  was  willing  and  he 
was  proud  even  when  my  husband 
had  the  fever — typhoid.  He  went 
down  to  nurse  him.  I  couldn't  go, 
it  was  only  a  week  before  little  Mil- 
dred was  born.  He  went,  and  he 
stayed  with  him  until  he  died,  just 
a  few  days  later,  and  then  he 
brought  him  home."  She  did  not 
weep;  but  her  lips  quivered;  for  a 
minute  she  was  silent;  staring  at 
the  brilliantly  lighted  street  which 
she  did  not  see. 

"It  was  terrible  for  you,"  said 
the  other  woman  gently. 

18 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

"You  are  a  widow,  too — you 
know,"  said  Mrs.  Hardy. 

"Captain  Hardy  was  very  good 
to  me — you  mustn't  think  I  wasn't 
fond  of  him.  I  was.  I  couldn't 
help  it ;  he  was  so  kind,  so  generous, 
so  fond  of  the  children ;  yet — it  was 
a  fi — a  struggle  between  him  and 
me  all  the  time  for  little  Victor. 
The  child  adored  him.  He  used  to 
sit  listening  to  his  stories  of  the  war 
with  rapt  attention.  There  was  an 
old  Confederate  officer  on  the  next 
street;  those  two  men  were  great 
cronies;  and  little  Victor  would 
listen  to  them  until  he  would  be 
fighting  over  their  battles  in  his 

19 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

sleep.  When  Captain  Hardy  died 
Victor  took  it  awfully  hard.  He  is 
a  quiet,  uncomplaining  boy,  but  he 
suffered — I  could  see  how  he  suf- 
fered. He  used  to  wear  a  little  flag 
pinned  on  his  shirt.  ^That's  for  our 
country,'  he  would  say,  'grand- 
father made  me  promise  to  be  a 
good  man  and  take  care  of  you 
and  love  our  country.' 

"When  the  Captain  died  I  missed 
him,  too ;  I  couldn't  help  being  very 
fond  of  him.  He  was  a  good  man; 
and  he  was  so  good  to  us.  He  was 
a  successful  man,  too.  When  he 
died  he  left  a  hundred  thousand 
dollars  besides  his  house."  She 
spoke  with  a  certain  pride. 

20 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN  ANSWERED 

"Captain  Hardy  was  as  fine  a 
man  and  as  good  a  citizen  as  ever 
lived  in  this  town,"  said  Mrs.  Win- 
throp. 

"Yes,  he  was;  and  I  tell  Victor 
he'd  cause  to  be  proud  of  his  grand- 
father. He  was  very  generous  to 
us;  but  there  were  four  children, 
three  girls  and  my  husband.  One 
of  the  girls  was  a  widow,  and  one 
had  a  husband,  an  army  officer  who 
was  retired,  an  invalid ;  and  one  of 
the  girls  who  kept  house  for  her 
father  wasn't  either  very  young  or 
very  strong;  he  divided  his  prop- 
erty among  them  and  he  gave  an 
extra  five  thousand  to  Victor.  Do 
you  know  Victor  saved  up  the  in- 

21 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

terest  on  that  money  every  year, 
never  touched  a  cent.  He  was  go- 
ing to  college  with  it,  but  his  sister 
Mildred  was  such  a  bright  girl; 
and  she  felt  and  I  felt  as  if  she 
ought  to  have  a  career.  Victor  is  as 
good  as  gold,  and  he  has  a  fine 
mind,  a  very  fine  mind,  but — well, 
he  isn't  brilliant  like  Milly.  And 
when  I  talked  it  over  with  Victor 
he  saw  it  as  I  did.  He  went  into 
the  works  you  and  your  son  own; 
and  let  his  sister  have  his  savings. 
She's  in  her  junior  year  now  at  the 
State  University,  preparing  for 
work  in  social  settlements.  She 
helped  me  a  lot  about  that  club 
paper  you  heard.  She  feels  just  as 

22 


AISTD  THE   CAPTAIN  ANSWERED 

I  do  about  war.  Victor  is  different. 
And  yet — somehow,  though  he  is 
a  boy,  we  have  seemed  to  be  very 
close  and  to  understand  each  other 
so  well.  We  enjoy  the  same  things 
and  we  laugh  at  the  same  little 
jokes;  and  we  have  been  so  much 
to  each  other.  I  can't  quite  under- 
stand some  things  that  Milly  feels, 
although  I  am  sure  they  are  the 
right  things  to  feel,  but  I  seem  to 
understand  how  Victor  feels  with- 
out trying;  just  as  he  understands 
how  I  feel." 

"He  is  a  boy  to  be  proud  of," 
said  Mrs.  Winthrop. 

The  mother  blushed  happily:  "I 
am  proud  of  him,  just  as  proud 

23 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN  ANSWERED 

as  I  am  of  Milly;  but  don't  you 
think  he  did  right  to  give  her  the 
chance?" 

Mrs.  Winthrop  evaded  the  ques- 
tion. "How  did  Miss  Mildred  feel 
about  her  brother's  sacrifice,"  said 
she.  And  she  noticed  a  little  cloud 
on  the  other's  candid  face.  It 
seemed,  to  her  that  Mrs.  Hardy 
spoke  a  thought  too  earnestly. 

"Oh,  she  is  very  grateful.  She 
wanted  the  chance  so,  it  would 
have  broken  her  heart  to  have 
missed  it.  And  she  is  doing  so  well. 
Vic,  too,  is  proud  of  her.  But  I'm 
just  as  proud  of  Vic;  and" —  she 
smiled  shyly — "I'm  doing  a  little 
saving  to  surprise  him,  sometime." 

24 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

Then  the  tears  welled  into  her  eyes. 
"Do  you  think  the  war  will  last 
long — that  they  will  really  go  to 
Mexico?"  she  asked  tremulously, 
forgetting  she  had  asked  the  same 
question  before. 

''Honestly,  I  don't  think  this 
war  is  going  to  amount  to  much. 
But  it  may.  All  we  can  do  is  to 
pray  our  boys  may  come  back 
safely.   I  think  they  will." 

"Then  Victor  enlisted."  Mrs. 
Hardy  again  took  up  her  narra- 
tive. "He  told  me  he  had  promised 
his  grandfather;  and  the  day  he 
was  twenty-one,  he  did  enlist;  but 
he  said  the  guard  was  only  defend- 
ing the  country,  it  wouldn't  go  out- 

25 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

side.  He  promised  me  solemnly  he 
would  not  enlist  in  the  regulars  or 
the  Federal  service.  But  I  heard  a 
woman  at  the  station  saying  those 
boys  would  all  take  the  oath  and  be 
under  the  Federal  service;  can't 
they  refuse  to  take  the  oath?" 

"They  can  refuse,  but — you. 
wouldn't  want  your  boy,  the 
grandson  of  two  brave  soldiers  and 
the  son  of  another,  to  refuse  to  do 
his  bit  for  his  country.  No  woman 
has  a  right  to  ask  her  son  to  feel 
disgraced,  even  to  save  his  life." 

"To  save  his  life  I  would  ask 
anything,"  cried  Mrs.  Hardy  pas- 
sionately. "And  it  is  not  a  wrong 
thing  I  ask  of  him.   It's  the  only 

26 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN  ANSWERED 

right  thing!  I  ask  him  to  refuse  to 
murder  other  women's  sons.  Just 
as  you  talk  his  grandfather  used  to 
talk,  but  when  he  died  I  thought, 
now  the  battle  between  us  is  over, 
now  my  boy  is  mine ;  he  can't  take 
him  away  from  me  and  send  him 
into  danger  and — ^maybe — death. 
He  was  stronger  than  I  while  he 
lived,  but  I  thought  I  had  won 
when  he  died.  For  the  dead  can't 
fight." 

"You  are  mistaken,"  said  Mrs. 
Winthrop.  "The  dead  are  stronger 
than  we  are.  They  are  beyond  our 
reach,  but  we  are  not  beyond  theirs.^ 
Weak — ^the  dead?  Why,  they  are 
the  only  ones  whose  strength  we 

27 


AND  THE  CAPTAIN  ANSWERED 

can  not  fight!"  Then,  as  if  fearing 
she  had  said  too  much,  she  added  in 
a  lighter  tone :  "If  we  turn  here,  we 
can  have  one  more  ghmpse  of 
them;  shall  we  take  it?"  Mrs. 
Hardy  agreed  thankfully. 

The  limousine  turned  noiselessly 
when  Mrs.  Winthrop  gave  the  or- 
der and  sped  to  the  darker  quarter 
of  the  city.  There  was  the  train; 
there  were  the  open  cars  with  the 
battery's  cannon  gray  and  grim. 
The  windows  of  the  coaches  were 
filled  with  sleek  young  heads  and 
waving  khaki-clad  young  arms. 
Once  again  the  motor  horns  made 
a  shrill  tumult,  piercing  the  shouts ; 
the  engine  whistle  answered;  and 

28 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

in  a  minute  the  car  lights  rolled 
away  far  down  the  curve  of  the 
hill. 

Little  Mrs.  Hardy  was  crying 
quietly,  but  the  Captain's  mother 
sat  erect  with  steady  eyes  and  a 
white  smiling  face. 

"It  would  be  a  selfish  love,"  she 
said,  "that  would  deny  them  a 
beautiful  moment  like  this.  They 
want  to  go,  they  want  to  serve  their 
country;  and  all  their  lives  will  be 
the  richer  for  it — " 

"But  if  they  die—" 

"Could  they  have  a  better 
death?  And  we  have  a  country, 
too,  shall  we  grudge  our  best  to  it? 
Shall  we  ask  other  women  to  sac- 

29 


AND   THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

rifice  their  dearest  while  we  with- 
hold ours?" 

"Ah,  but  don't  you  see,"  burst  in 
the  other.  "Oh,  don't  you  see  that 
it's  cruel  and  wicked?  Only  by  our 
withholding  our  own  can  we  con- 
vince other  people,  and  make  war 
impossible !" 

"War  is  very  dreadful,"  Mrs. 
Winthrop  agreed  in  a  level  quiet 
voice,  which  somehow  gave  Mrs. 
Hardy  an  impression  of  a  deep, 
though  controlled  earnestness. 
"Very  dreadful;  but  there  are  far 
more  dreadful  things ;  national  dis- 
honor is  more  dreadful ;  to  lose  the 
hopes  and  ideals  of  our  forefathers 
because  we  are  too  cowardly  or  too 

30 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

mercenary  or  too  sentimental  to 
fight  for  them  is  more  dreadful!  It 
is  more  dreadful  for  us  to  stand 
idly  by  and  see  hundreds  of  thou- 
sands of  innocent  men,  women  and 
children  killed  or  starved  to  death ; 
to  see  women  hideously  misused,  to 
witness  all  the  liberties  of  small 
peoples  wrenched  from  them,  and 
every  kind  of  cruelty  and  greed 
triumphant.  Oh,  there  are  many 
more  dreadful  things  than  war! 
War  with  all  its  horrors  is  saving 
the  souls  of  England  and  France 
and  Russia.  War  some  day  will 
save  ours,  for  believe  me,  dear  Mrs. 
Hardy,  war  we  shall  surely  have !" 
"I  can  not  see  it,"  replied  Mrs. 

31 


AND  THE  CAPTAIN  ANSWERED 

Hardy  bitterly;  but  having  said, 
she  fell  silent;  nor  did  the  Cap- 
tain's mother  try  to  persuade  her 
further;  instead  she  was  infinitely 
kind  and  gentle  and  spoke  of  prac- 
tical details  and  of  planning  to 
visit  their  sons  at  the  training 
camp. 


CHAPTER  III 

HIS  GRANDFATHER 

Meanwhile  Victor  Hardy  was 
sitting  erect  in  his  seat,  uncon- 
sciously assuming  a  military  stiff- 
ness of  pose,  with  the  very  strang- 
est emotions  of  his  uneventful 
young  life  burning  his  heart 
within  him.  He  tingled  with  the 
remembrance  of  the  glance  that 
Amy  Carruth  had  given  him.  So 
vaguely  that  no  nerve  apprised  him 
of  its  significance  he  felt  himself 
enhanced  in  his  own  self-esteem. 
He  was  a  diffident  lad  who  rated 
himself  too  low  as  naturally  as 

38 


AND   THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

many  young  men  rate  themselves 
too  high.  Even  now  he  would  not 
admit  in  his  reverie  that  the  girl 
who  had  always  been  the  one  girl 
to  him  had  looked  on  him  with  a 
glint  of  admiration  in  her  kindli- 
ness ;  yet  he  felt  it  in  every  fiber  of 
him.  And  he  felt  it  was  because  he 
was  a  soldier.  "She  loves  our  coun- 
try, too,"  he  thought. 

His  grandfather's  image  never 
forgotten,  nor  even  greatly  dimmed 
by  the  years,  came  to  him  in  the 
distinctness  of  his  childish  vision. 
Words  and  phrases  only  faintly 
comprehended  were  illuminated 
into  their  real  meaning,  though 
not  distinctly  enough  for  words  of 

34 


AND   THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

his  own.    He  understood  the  old 
soldier's  ardor. 

He  could  see  the  lights  twin- 
kling and  fading  among  the  trees 
on  the  dark  hillsides.  They  seemed 
to  mean  to  him  not  merely  homes 
of  his  fellow  townsmen,  some 
stately,  some  humble;  but  all  the 
kindly,  neighborly  habit  of  Amer- 
ican life,  the  good  offices  in  trouble 
or  sickness,  the  sympathy,  the 
homely  cheer,  the  humorous  com- 
fort if  a  man  was  discouraged,  all 
the  open-hearted  friendliness  in 
whose  warmth  he  had  grown  to 
manhood,  feeling  it  but  not  think- 
ing about  it;  and  his  heart  swelled 
with  a  new  affection  for  it  all.  At 

35 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN  ANSWERED 

the  same  breath  he  recalled  his 
grandfather's  words;  he  realized 
what  is  love  of  country,  that  mys- 
tical, misunderstood,  misused  emo- 
tion which  rests  like  a  sword  in  a 
scabbard  most  of  the  time,  but 
comes  out  flashing  mightily  in  the 
hour  of  peril;  he  realized  it  was 
not  only  love  of  the  fair  heritage 
on  earth  bequeathed  by  the  fathers ; 
it  was  not  land  or  gear,  it  was  not 
even  the  kindly  people  of  his  blood 
who  lived  about  him ;  but  it  was  the 
men  of  all  the  past  whose  heroism 
had  not  been  in  vain,  the  gaunt  pio- 
neers who  fought  hunger  and  the 
savages;  the  men  at  Valley  Forge 
who  limped  through  the  snow  with 

36 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

their  worn  shoes  and  their  bleeding 
feet;  the  brave  lads  on  sea  or  shore 
who  fought  in  the  Civil  War,  whose 
sacrifice  and  heroism  belong  to  us 
all  equally  whether  they  wore  blue 
or  gray;  the  lads  just  as  brave  who 
sickened  and  died  in  the  fever 
camps  of  the  Spanish  War;  it 
meant  all  the  past.  And  it  meant 
the  future. 

"That's  what  the  flag  means, 
son," — ^he  could  hear  his  grand- 
father's voice  and  the  tap  of  his 
wooden  heel  as  he  prodded  his  emo- 
tion home  on  the  cement  walk. 
"That's  what  the  flag  means, 
everything;  all  we  fought  for  in 
the  past;  all  we  work  for  to-day, 

37 


AND   THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

all  we  hope  for;  a  better  chanee 
for  every  man  and  a  better  man  to 
take*  the  chance.  They  call  it  a 
symbol,  they  say  symbols  are  not 
real  things;  I  guess  symbols  are 
the  soul  of  things." 

If  his  grandfather  were  only 
alive  now!  He  would  be  an  old 
man  nearing  eighty  (which  seemed 
a  great  age  to  the  young  fellow) ; 
but  he  was  a  lad  of  nineteen, 
younger  than  Victor,  when  he  first 
buckled  on  his  soldier's  belt  and 
first  lifted  his  hand  to  swear  al- 
legiance to  the  Republic.  He  had 
kept  his  oath;  through  privations 
and  suffering  and  wounds  and  mu- 
tilation  and  innumerable   aspects 

38 


AND   THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

of  danger.  How  he  would  have 
waved  and  cheered  to  see  him,  the 
third  Victor,  taking  his  place  be- 
hind the  colors  I 

Thoughts  vague  and  wander- 
ing and  indistinct,  yet  glowing, 
throbbed  through  him;  for  hours 
he  was  awake.  His  companions' 
jests  reached  him  now  and  then; 
that  jocose  flippancy  with  which 
the  strong  heart  of  America  masks 
its  molten  ardor  or  its  tenderness. 

"Some  town,  boys,  not?"  called 
one  of  them.  "Oh,  we'll  give  them 
something  for  the  first  page  if  we 
get  at  the  greasers !" 

"What  a  bunch  they  are!"  Victor 
mused   proudly   with   a   swelling 

39 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN  ANSWERED 

heart.  "What  a  country  to  fight 
for!"  At  last  he  drifted  into  sleep. 
But  no  sleep  came  all  that  night  to 
his  mother's  fevered  eyelids. 


CHAPTER  IV 

HER  FEARS 

Insteaxl  of  abating  as  the  days 
went  by,  Ellen  Hardy's  distress  of 
mind  and  grisly  fears  steadily 
waxed  greater.  They  swelled  in 
her  soul  like  some  noxious  seed. 
And  whenever  in  his  frequent  let- 
ters Victor  mentioned  his  grand- 
father (who  seemed  constantly  in 
his  thoughts)  an  obsession  of  dread 
came  on  her.  After  all  her  pray- 
ers, after  all  her  tears,  all  her  un- 
remitting efforts  to  influence  her 
son,  and  to  combat  that  dead  man's 
strong  soul,  was  he  slipping  from 

41 


AND   THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERt:D 

her  grasp?  Could  he  who  had 
never  broken  his  word  be  wanting 
to  break  it  now? 

More  than  once  in  the  letters 
which  she  tried  pathetically  to 
make  interesting  to  him,  disguis- 
ing her  secret  turmoil  under  a 
sprightliness  foreign  to  her  (for 
she  was  quite  too  earnest  a  creature 
to  joke  very  much)  more  than  once 
by  implication  rather  than  directly 
she  tried  to  suggest  to  him  the 
question  which  she  dared  not  put. 
Once  she  wrote:  "Madam  Vibert 
had  such  an  interesting  paper  be- 
fore the  club  yesterday;  it  was  on 
the  difference  between  American 
sons  and  French  sons  regarding 

42 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

their  mothers.  She  drew  a  beauti- 
ful picture  of  the  devotion  of 
French  boys  to  their  mothers ;  how 
attentive  they  were  and  affection- 
ate and  confiding ;  but  I  thought  I 
knew  one  American  boy  who  was 
just  as  nice  and  poHte  as  any 
French  boy  and  who  had  a  truth- 
fulness and  regard  for  his  word 
which  I  like  to  think  is  typically 
American.  But  then  I  guess  I  don't 
know  so  much  about  French  boys 
as  I  thought  I  did;  anyway,  it  is 
lovely  the  way  they  treat  their 
mothers;  but  not  any  lovelier  than 
the  way  my  boy  has  treated  his 
mother,  and  you  never  told  me  a 
lie  in  your  life,  nor  made  me  a 

43 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

promise  that  you  didn't  keep."  He 
made  no  answer  to  this  beyond  as- 
suring her  that  she  was  the  very 
best  mother  in  the  world,  and  as  to 
telhng  lies,  his  grandfather  had 
taken  care  of  that  for  him.  He 
knew  how  mean  it  was. 

Victor  had  always  been  rather  an 
inarticulate  soul.  Instead  of  say- 
ing things  he  was  prone  to  do  little 
practical  acts  of  kindness.  His 
mother  would  find  the  room  dusted 
or  the  woodbox  filled.  Once  she 
found  an  exceptionally  towering 
pile  in  the  woodbox;  she  hadn't 
asked  him  to  fill  it  or  thought  of 
his  filling  it,  but  when  she  spoke  of 
it  he  answered  with  his  shy  smile: 

44 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

"I  just  had  to  do  it,  you  were  look- 
ing so  pretty." 

She  sent  him  every  military  com- 
fort of  which  she  could  think,  or 
discover,  through  Mrs.  Winthrop, 
with  actual  joy  sacrificing  the 
money  she  had  laid  by  for  her  win- 
ter hat  and  suit.  She  made  cakes. 
She  cooked  sweetmeats  which, 
guided  by  Mildred's  austere  hy- 
gienic creed,  she  had  formerly  con- 
demned and  forbidden  her  larder. 
She  knitted  for  him;  she  took  les- 
sons in  useful  garments  for  soldiers 
from  an  unprincipled  Red  Cross 
nurse  who  had  been  at  the  front 
and  liked  to  talk  about  it  to  the 
equally    unprincipled    young    so- 

45 


:and  the  captain  answered 

ciety  girls  and  matrons  who  liked 
to  hear.  She  learned  first  aid  to 
the  injured;  it  might  be  that  some 
day  her  knowledge  would  be  of 
use. 

OBut  she  vowed  with  set  lips  it 
must  be  for  fighting  in  defense  of 
their  own  soil,  not  ravaging  a 
neighbor's  land  in  a  wicked  lust  of 
rapine  or  conquest.  Yet  there  were 
times  when  to  her  unutterable  self- 
reproach  she  felt  a  thrill  as  she 
caught  the  note  of  a  bugle  or  saw 
the  flag  flutter  and  its  fair  colors 
burn  against  the  sky.  She  had  an 
ever-growing  dread  lest  her  influ- 
ence should  wane;  lest  that  dead 
man  should  regain  his  ascendency 

46 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

over  her  son.  Then — ^but  he  had 
never  broken  his  word ;  this  was  his 
solemn  promise  that  he  would  not 
fight  save  on  his  own  soil,  in  de- 
fense, not  in  aggression. 

Yet  all  the  time  the  fear  of  it 
was  like  a  cold  terror,  coiled  in  the 
far  recesses  of  her  heart;  it  stirred 
with  every  letter  which  she  opened. 
And  one  day  it  was  justified. 

Victor  told  her  in  a  few  words 
that  he  had  no  right  to  make  her 
the  promise  which  he  had  made ;  he 
had  felt  it  more  and  more  since 
he  had  been  in  camp;  didn't  she 
feel  different,  too? 

She  sat  down  and  thought.  In 
the  morning's  paper  she  had  read 

47 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

that  the  Federal  oath  was  to  be  ad- 
ministered to  the  boys  at  camp  the 
same  afternoon.  She  read  over  the 
date.  There  was  no  mistake.  Feel- 
ing as  he  did  Victor  would  break 
his  word  and  take  the  oath. 

Facing  her  was  an  old  photo- 
graph carefully  framed  showing 
her  husband  as  a  boy  and  his  father 
sitting  on  their  big  western  porch 
with  a  great  flag  drooping  over  the 
door.  The  Captain  was  in  his  serv- 
ice uniform,  the  lad  in  a  copy  of  it ; 
and  they  had  been  photographed, 
as  the  date  showed,  on  a  far-away 
Decoration  Day. 

She  looked  at  the  rugged,  kindly 
face  with  the  firm,   clean-shaven 

48 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

chin  and  the  military  mustache. 
What  steady  eyes  he  had.  What 
a  will. 

"You  think  you  have  con- 
quered," she  flashed,  clenching  her 
hands;  a  bitter  resentment  rising 
and  flooding  her  soul,  "but  you 
haven't,  you  shan't!" 

She  knew  now  every  train  to 
Fort  Dodge.  Fort  Dodge — the 
camp — was  named  after  Iowa's 
great  general,  his  old  commander 
whom  the  Captain  loved,  to  whom 
he  wrote  every  year  on  a  certain 
battle  anniversary  day.  "A  won- 
derful man,"  the  Captain  used  to 
declaim,  "as  wonderful  in  peace  as 
in  war.    They'll  put  up  a  monu- 

49 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

ment  to  him  when  he's  gone,  why 
don't  they  begin  now ;  but  it  doesn't 
matter,  the  Union  Pacific  Railway 
is  his  monument."  The  Captain 
would  have  liked  their  naming  the 
camp  where  the  guard  gathered  for 
his  idol. 

The  mother  hated  the  very 
name;  in  that  cruel  moment  she 
almost  hated  the  old  man  who  had 
been  so  kind  yet  so  ruthless.  Like 
hammer  blows  on  her  heart  she 
heard  again  Mrs.  Winthrop's 
words— "Weak?  The  dead?  Why, 
they  are  the  only  ones  whose 
strength  we  can  not  fight." 

"But  I  will  fight,"  she  vowed. 
Rapidly  she  planned  to  take  the 

50 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN  ANSWERED 

next  train.  Mrs.  Winthrop  had 
asked  that  she  let  her  know  should 
she  propose  to  visit  her  son  so  that 
she  might  send  her  to  the  station 
and  otherwise  make  the  trip  easier. 
Recalling  the  offer  now,  Ellen 
Hardy  shook  her  head.  "Not  when 
I'm  going  on  this  kind  of  an  er- 
rand," she  muttered,  "it  wouldn't 
be  fair."  Then  she  added  wearily, 
"I  suppose  she  will  never  speak  to 
me  again,  and  I  liked  her  so  much 
— but  it  can't  be  helped." 


CHAPTER  V 

HER  PLAN 

Her  plan  at  first  was  simple 
enough.  She  was  going  to  camp  to 
see  her  boy  and  to  beg  him,  with 
all  the  power  of  appeal  and  per- 
suasion which  she  possessed,  not  to 
break  her  heart  by  taking  the  oath. 
She  knew  that  there  was  no  law  to 
compel  him;  true,  public  opinion 
would  be  harsh  with  him,  perhaps 
Captain  Winthrop  would  dismiss 
him,  and  they  had  built  so  many 
hopes,  so  many  plans  on  his  success 
at  the  works.  But  her  mother's 
father's  forebears  had  been  read  out 

52 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

of  church  and  gravely  harmed  in 
their  trade  because  they  were  abo- 
litionists; Victor  and  she  were  of 
the  same  stock;  they,  too,  could 
suffer  for  righteousness'  sake  if 
need  be.  Because  she  was  not 
bloodthirsty  it  did  not  follow  that 
she  was  a  coward. 

All  through  the  journey — which 
was  tiresome  and  uncomfortable, 
being  in  the  crowded  day  coach 
which  had  started  clean  from 
somewhere  but  had  accumulated 
peanut  shells  and  dust  and  news- 
papers and  very  bad  air  from  the 
presence  of  many  of  her  fellow 
citizens  who  hated  ventilation,  and 
ate  bananas  and  apples    (worthy 

53 


AND  THE  CAPTAIN  ANSWERED 

and  healthful  food  which  she  de- 
tested)— all  through  the  journey 
she  tried  to  marshal  her  arguments 
and  her  appeals  and  to  make  them 
more  convincing,  more  persuasive. 
She  sat  beside  a  partly  intoxicated 
man  who  talked  about  the  neces- 
sity of  stricter  liquor  laws  and  na- 
tional prohibition ;  and  there  was  a 
mother  with  two  babies  just  recov- 
ering from  the  chicken-pox,  excit- 
ing grave  fears  in  the  lady  across 
the  aisle,  who  was  going  to  en- 
lighten a  neighboring  woman's 
club  and  who  all  the  way  rehearsed 
her  paper  to  herself  in  a  low  but 
expressive  voice.  Just  in  front,  in 
tones  only  occasionally  rising,  two 

54i 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN  ANSWERED 

men  discussed  the  possibilities  of 
Mexican  warfare,  and  one  related 
grisly  experiences  of  his  own 
cousin  while  the  other  had  first- 
hand horrors  to  exhibit. 

The  low  hills,  the  streams  like 
silver  ribbons,  where  the  cattle 
stood  knee  deep  and  turned  the 
gentle  indifference  of  their  gaze 
on  the  train,  the  ample  farmsteads 
and  silos,  the  villages  with  their 
winding,  dark  brown  roads,  and 
their  motor-cars  before  the  little 
stores;  the  trim  towns  with  parks 
and  shady  streets,  the  homes  of 
novel  stateliness  which  peered 
through  the  wooded  hills  beyond 
their  stone   gateways — any  other 

55 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN  ANSWERED 

time  she  would  have  viewed  them 
all  with  eager  interest;  now  her 
jaded  gaze  sought  them  only  as  a 
relief  from  the  noisome  interior  of 
the  car. 

It  was  dazzling  broad  noon  when 
the  train  rumbled  and  jerked  into 
the  solidly  built  streets  of  Des 
Moines. 

Sbme  lads  in  trigly  buttoned 
khaki  were  on  the  platform.  A 
queer,  unexpected  thrill  quivered 
through  her  at  the  sight.  They 
turned  up  the  street  and  at  the 
same  moment  a  company  with  fife 
and  drum  and  flag  swung  around 
the  corner.  The  khaki-clad  boys 
stood    rigidly    erect     at     salute. 

56 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN  ANSWERED 

Again  that  unexpected,  unwel- 
come, strangely  poignant  thrill! 
Shaken  and  bewildered,  she  re- 
mained on  the  curbstone,  her  suit- 
case beside  her.  Thus  standing, 
fragments  of  conversation  from 
the  bystanders  drifted  to  her  ears. 

"Going  to  the  camp?"  It  was  a 
deep,  rumbling  bass  voice. 

"Yes."  It  was  a  thin,  high 
tenor.  "Soon  as  my  car  is  ready. 
I  got  to  carry  some  truck  to  one 
of  them  swell-headed  officers." 

"I  understand  they're  going  to 
take  the  Federal  oath — a  lot  of 
them." 

"Yes,  and  it's  a  black  shame, 
toop"  piped  the  thin  voice  vehe- 

5^ 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN  ANSWERED 

mently.  "Them  boys  didn't  enlist 
to  go  fightin'  greasers  and  being 
et  up  by  typhis  lice  and  sun  pi- 
zened.  Nor  they  ain't  compelled  to 
take  the  oath  if  they  don't  wanter." 

"They  seem  to  take  it,"  retorted 
the  bass  dryly.  "There  was  only 
three  men  out  of  the  whole  regi- 
ment they  swore  in  yesterday 
wouldn't  take  it  and  not  one  day 
before.'* 

"I  know  that,  and  what  did  they 
do  to  them  three  brave  men  that 
stood  up  for  their  convictions  and 
their  constitutional  rights?  They 
painted  splashes  of  yellow  over  'em 
and  hissed  and  hooted  and  swore  at 
'em  and  stuck  them  off  in  a  tent  by 

58 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

themselves  like  they  was  conta- 
gious. It  makes  me  mad  to  see 
such  goings  on." 

"Well,  it  don't  me,"  came  sonor- 
ously from  the  other,  "it  served 
them  right.  Hiding  to  save  their 
own  precious  skins  and  letting  de- 
cent folks  get  killed  for  'em.  I'd 
like  to  stand  such  pups  again'  a 
wall—" 

Here  the  passing  crowd  drove  a 
wedge  between  the  speakers  and 
the  listener.  But  Mrs.  Hardy 
caught  her  breath  in  a  spasm  of 
resolution.  What  she  had  resolved 
to  do  was  contrary  to  every  prin- 
ciple of  her  conscientious  past.  All 
the  teaching  of  her  life,  all  her  own 

59 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN  ANSWERED 

code  by  which  that  life  had  been 
shaped  caught  at  her  with  protest- 
ing hands.  But  she  was  impelled 
by  a  stern  emotion  which  swept 
everything  else  away  like  chaif. 
With  a  set  mouth  she  walked  into 
the  telegraph  office  and  sent  a  tele- 
gram. Her  hand  trembled  no 
more  than  did  her  lips  as  she 
framed  the  words : 

"Have  been  terribly  hurt.  Come 
at  once,  Chamberlin  Hotel. 

"Mother." 

Then,  having  sent  the  message, 
she  walked  out  again  into  the 
sunny  street.  The  chauffeur  of  the 
high  voice,  whom  she  had  heard  a 

60 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

few  moments  before,  was  at  the 
wheel  of  his  car.  She  walked  up 
to  him. 

"Are  you  going  to  Camp 
Dodge?"  she  asked. 

"I'm  going  this  afternoon, 
ma'am,"  he  answered,  not  inter- 
ested enough  to  wonder. 

"I  want  to  tell  you  something," 
said  she.  This  time  he  did  turn  a 
languid  interest  upon  her. 

"I've  got  a  boy  out  to  the  camp. 
I  want  him  not  to  take  the  oath ;  he 
belongs  to  me,  not  to  this  Govern- 
ment." 

"Sure  he  don't,  lady,"  acquiesced 
the  man;  "but  kin  you  stop  him? 
Them  boys  is  all  on  edge.  There's 

61 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

an  unrighteous  amount  of  pressure 
being  brought  to  bear  on  'em. 
Why,  three  or  four  boys  who  had 
the  nerve  to  stand  ag'in'  'em  they 
stuck  off  in  a  tent  by  themselves, 
after  they  had  splashed  yellow 
paint  over  their  uniforms.  Now 
nobody  speaks  to  them  and  they 
have  to  police  the  camp — clean  up, 
that  is;  and — oh,  they  certainly  do 
have  a  tough  time." 

Mrs.  Hardy  turned  pale,  but  she 
did  not  waver.  Had  not  her  moth- 
er's father  suffered  for  the  right? 

She  unfolded  her  plan  to  the 
chauffeur. 

''I  get  yer,  lady,"  he  chuckled  in 
reply.    "I  can  deliver  the  goods. 

62 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

I'll  only  charge  you  five  bucks  for 
the  job  on  account  of  you  and  me 
having  the  same  principles.  You 
say  he  don't  know  nothin'  about 
machines?  Well,  the  carburetor 
ought  to  be  good  for  at  least 
twenty  minutes'  delay;  and  the 
universal  joint  out  of  whack  for  a 
half  an  hour,  anyhow,  properly 
managed.  Just  steer  the  guy  into 
my  machine  and  you  can  rest 
easy." 


CHAPTER  VI 

HIS  DECISION 

The  bell-boy  at  the  Chamberlin 
had  spent  the  last  twenty  minutes 
straining  his  young  ears  to  catch 
the  conversation  in  405.  This  bell- 
boy was  a  novel-reading  youth. 
He  had  expected  his  hotel  pathway 
to  be  sown  thickly  with  situations 
of  tragedy  and  romance.  When 
the  transoms  and  the  doors  ajar 
brought  him  nothing  more  thrill- 
ing than  the  most  ordinary  conju- 
gal disputes,  and  when  his  one 
glance  of  ghastliness  involved  in 
the  silent  man  behind  the  door  de- 

64 


AND   THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

veloped  into  nothing  worse  than 
the  drunken  stupor  of  a  traveling 
salesman,  his  disappointment  be- 
gan to  become  cynical.  But  when 
to-day  a  pale-faced  young  soldier, 
very  stern  and  breathless,  had  de- 
manded to  be  taken  to  Mrs. 
OEIardy's  room  and  had  asked  him 
in  plain  agitation  of  mind  how  was 
Mrs.  Hardy,  hope  revived.  He 
answered  carelessly,  "She  was  all 
right  ten  minutes  ago  when  I 
brung  her  some  ice-water,"  and  no- 
ticed with  pleasure  that  his  answer 
seemed  in  some  obscure  way  to  ex- 
cite the  soldier.  Therefore  he  made 
occasion  to  listen  at  the  door. 
There  was  no  question  in  his  mind 

65 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

that  there  was  emotion  of  some 
kind  exploding  in  the  room.  He 
caught  a  queer  strangled  cry  of 
"Mother"  which  he  couldn't  under- 
stand. Then  came  a  rapid  inter- 
change of  question  and  answer, 
and  sobbing  entreaty.  The  voices 
were  provokingly  low  keyed;  but 
he  was  sure  that  he  heard  the 
woman  say,  "But  I  was  hurt,  I  was 
terribly  hurt,"  and  once  the  boy 
said,  "No,  mother,  I  can't  promise, 
I'd  be  a  traitor  if  I  did."  Then 
there  was  something  about  grand- 
father which  the  bell-boy  could  not 
understand,  and  then  the  door 
opened  and  quite  distinctly  he 
heard  the  soldier  say,  "No,  mother, 

66 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN  ANSWERED 

I  must  go  right  away.  You  see  the 
Captain  brought  me  out  here  him- 
self; he  was  going  for  the  General 
to  fetch  him  and  some  others  in, 
and  I  promised  I'd  come  right 
back." 

The  mother  said  something  so 
low  that  the  bell-boy  couldn't  catch 
it,  but  he  heard  the  soldier  reply, 
"Very  well,  I'll  take  your  man 
then;  what's  his  name,  Collins?" 
And  there  was  a  sound  of  sob- 
bing farewell  mingled  with  remon- 
strance. 

"Kissin'  him  and  cryin',"  sum- 
marized the  bell-boy.  Immediately 
the  soldier  strode  out  into  the  hall, 
paler  and  sterner  looking  than  be- 

67 


AND  THE  CAPTAIN  ANSWERED 

bore.  He  almost  knocked  the  boy 
down  before  the  latter  could  as- 
sume a  proper  position  of  saunter- 
ing ease. 

"Do  you  know  a  man  by  the 
name  of  Collins  who  runs  an  auto- 
mobile between  here  and  Camp 
Dodge?"  The  bell-boy  did  know 
such  a  man.  His  opinion  of  Col- 
lins was  not  favorable,  but  he  knew 
of  him  and  he  could  take  the  sol- 
dier to  him.  He  recommended, 
however,  far  more  strongly,  one 
Sanders  (a  near  kinsman  of  his 
own,  but  this  fact  he  did  not  men- 
tion) who  was  a  cracker  jack  chauf- 
feur and  had  a  beautiful  new  Ford 
machine.     The    soldier,    however, 

68 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

held  to  his  first  choice ;  and  Sammy 
Sanders,  the  bell-boy,  watched 
Collins  gather  him  in  and  bear  him 
away,  while  Sanders,  with  the  shin- 
ing new  Ford  languished  on  the 
curb. 

"Reckon  she  was  tryin'  to  make 
him  promise  to  quit  the  booze," 
thought  Sammy;  "but  he's  just 
bound  and  determined  to  fill  a 
drunkard's  grave;  ain't  it  awful,'^ 
he  commented  with  dismal  cheer- 
fulness ;  feeling  that  now,  at  least, 
he  was  beginning  to  see  life.  He 
was  sorry  that  he  couldn't  get  a 
fare  for  his  cousin,  but  the  shadow 
of  regret  disappeared  at  the  unex- 
pected arrival  of  Mrs.  Hardy  her- 

69 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN  ANSWERED 

self  on  the  scene.  Her  eyelids  were 
red;  beyond  a  doubt  she  had  been 
crying.  She  asked  Sammy  could 
he  find  her  an  automobile  to  take 
her  out  to  Camp  Dodge?  So  sin- 
cerely did  Sammy  sympathize  with 
her  that  he  persuaded  his  kinsman, 
a  kind-hearted  young  chap,  to 
knock  oiF  fifty  cents  from  his 
charge.  With  a  heart  swelling 
with  that  virtuous  glow  which 
comes  to  the  benevolent  doer  of  a 
good  action,  at  no  expense  to  him- 
self, Sammy  watched  the  new  Ford 
spin  down  the  road  and  flash 
around  the  corner. 


CHAPTER  VII 

HIS  FATHER^S  SON 

Which  of  the  motley  pack  of 
emotions  tearing  at  Ellen  Hardy's 
heart  like  hounds  yelping  and  bit- 
ing impelled  her  to  rush  out  to  the 
sidewalk  in  pursuit  of  her  son  she 
did  not  know.  Her  misery  was  as 
confused  as  it  was  poignant.  There 
was  something  so  hideously  unex- 
pected and  strange  about  it.  To 
have  Victor,  her  lover-son  who  had 
always  sympathized,  always  ad- 
mired, always  trusted  her;  to  have 
him  judge  and  condemn  her  was 
incredible.     The    gifted    Mildred 

71 


:4ND  THE   CAPTAIN  ANSWERED 

had  always  assumed  the  attitude  of 
a  leader,  beckoning  her  to  the 
heights.  She  believed  implicitly 
in  Mildred's  superiority;  but  Vic- 
tor was  her  comrade  who  admired 
everything  she  did.  Now,  he  had 
not  upbraided  her;  but  his  bewil- 
derment and  pain  over  her  du- 
plicity were  far  worse  than  re- 
proaches. 

She  really  had  no  new  plan  in 
her  mind  now;  only  a  vague,  over- 
mastering impulse  to  see  him 
again;  to  make  him  understand 
how  she  felt;  to  make  him  acquit 
her;  and  even  at  the  last  to  save 
him.  Then,  too,  the  mother  heart 
of  her  yearned  over  the  unhappi- 

72 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN  ANSWERED 

ness  which  her  own  scheming  must 
bring  him.  If  he  came  too  late  he 
would  be  bitterly  disappointed. 
Her  mind  rang  the  change  of  his 
sentences  in  the  last  interview;  of 
the  whirling  words  which  had 
stunned  her,  trying,  somehow,  to 
make  it  plain  to  herself.  All  the 
while  she  was  dimly  conscious  that 
the  chauffeur  was  amiably  acting 
as  cicerone;  describing  the  streets, 
the  buildings,  the  vast  advantages 
of  Des  Moines.  He  was  an  under- 
sized, lean  chap;  deeply  freckled, 
with  sharp  eyes  and  curly,  pale 
brown  hair.  An  ardent  patriot 
himself,  he  had  tried  in  vain  to  de- 
ceive the  recruiting  officer  by  three 

73 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN  ANSWERED 

years  and  make  himself  out 
eighteen.  Since  he  could  not  en- 
list, his  one  consolation  was  to  talk 
about  the  soldiers  and  appear  a 
young  man  of  military  parts.  He 
knew  the  names  of  all  the  officers 
and  all  the  widely  assorted  gossip 
of  the  camp.  This  he  imparted  to 
his  passenger,  but  only  now  and 
then  did  she  hear  a  word  that  he 
said.  Her  mind  had  drifted  back 
to  her  long  combat  with  the  dead 
Captain,  for  her  son's  soul.  Some- 
how the  arguments  that  had  once 
seemed  so  convincing  to  her  to-day 
looked  futile  and  unreal. 

They  were  crossing  the  fields; 
far  away,  beyond  the  stunted  trees, 

74 


AND  THE  CAPTAIN  ANSWERED 

were  the  long  lines  of  tents,  the 
rough  wooden  buildings,  the  flags 
flying.  She  thought  of  her  father. 
He  would  have  sided  with  the  old 
Captain.  The  breeze  bore  to  her 
the  faint  notes  of  a  bugle;  and 
again  that  same  amazing  thrill 
shook  her  heart.  She  thought  of 
Mrs.  Winthrop,  a  soldier's  daugh- 
ter, but  no  more  a  soldier's  daugh- 
ter than  she  herself. 

By  now  they  were  on  the  out- 
skirts of  the  camp.  Several  men 
came  out  of  one  of  the  tents  and 
stood  looking  about.  Their  uni- 
forms were  untidy  and  splashed 
with  great  streaks  of  yellow  paint. 
Their  shoulders  stooped;  there  was 

75 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

nothing  military  about  their  bear- 
ing. 

"Uh-r-r-r,  uh-r-r-r,"  grunted  the 
chauffeur.  "I'd  like  to  get  near 
enough  to  spit  on  'em." 

"Why?"  asked  Mrs.  Hardy. 

"They're  the  yellow  cowards 
that  wouldn't  take  the  Federal 
oath!  Well,  they're  getting  theirs 
now ;  nobody'U  have  anything  to  do 
with  'em  or  to  say  to  'em.  They 
was  drummed  out  of  their  com- 
pany and  the  boys  daubed  their 
uniforms  with  yellow  paint,  and 
they  got  to  police  the  camp.  They 
say  one  of  'em's  mother  kep'  writ- 
in'  him  not  to  take  the  oath  'cause 
she  believed  war  was  so  wicked." 

76 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN  ANSWERED 


Ellen  Hardy  wondered  how  that 
boy  felt  toward  his  mother.  For 
the  first  time  it  came  to  her  that  her 
boy's  life  belonged  to  him.  For  the 
first  time  she  realized  the  humilia- 
tion that  he  might  have  to  suffer  in 
such  a  case.  She  was  making  a 
martyr  of  him  without  giving  him 
the  martyr's  faith. 

Probably  by  now  he  was  raging 
at  the  delay  of  his  chauffeur.  It 
was  fortunate  that  he  did  not  know 
how  to  run  a  machine  himself;  for 
she  was  sure  that  he  was  quite 
capable  of  commandeering  the  car 
if  he  suspected  the  chauffeur. 
Would  they  charge  him  with  col- 
lusion in  the  delay? 

7?i 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

All  at  once  she  became  aware 
that  she  was  deadly  afraid  of  the 
consequences  of  her  own  plotting. 
Her  mind  went  back  to  the  days 
when  she  was  trying  to  combat  his 
grandfather's  influence,  but  her 
sensations  were  queerly  unsettled. 

Across  the  fields  she  could  see 
the  long,  dust-colored  lines  of  men 
moving  in  military  order ;  she  could 
hear  the  clear  notes  of  the  bugle. 
They  were  stirring  her  heart  as 
they  had  stirred  the  hearts  of  those 
two  men — ^her  husband  and  his 
father.  The  kindliest,  the  gentlest 
as  well  as  the  bravest  of  men,  they 
had  been.  How  often  the  old  Cap- 
tain had  helped  her!  It  was  not  out 

78 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 


of  cruelty  or  wicked  vanity  that 
they  had  fought.  It  was  because 
they  loved  their  country  and  be- 
lieved only  war  could  save  her. 
What  if  they  were  right!  She 
couldn't  argue  about  it;  but  the 
arguments  that  had  seemed  to  her 
so  beautiful  and  lofty  turned,  with- 
out warning,  into  tarnished  and 
tawdry  pleas. 

This  "communitj^  feeling"  which 
Mildred  was  always  praising — 
what  was  it  but  the  narrowest  be- 
ginning of  patriotism.  How  could 
any  one  love  another  country  as 
her  own,  any  more  than  she  could 
love  another  family  as  her  own? 

Without  warning  or  logic  it  was 

79 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN  ANSWERED 

as  if  a  wall  in  her  soul,  preventing 
any  sally  of  her  vision  into  other 
views  than  those  for  which  she  had 
fought  so  long  had  toppled  into 
wreck ;  and  in  a  single,  searing  mo- 
ment she  saw  as  the  old  soldier  had 
seen.  The  gentle,  humorous,  kindly 
hero  who  had  not  grudged  his  best 
to  his  country.  His  country?  Her 
own  country.  And  should  other 
mothers'  boys  die  to  save  her  son? 
You  have  won,"  her  soul  cried. 
Oh,  save  him  the  humiliation  I 
tried  to  make  for  him!" 

The  young  chauffeur  was  laugh- 
ing. "Bet  you  there's  a  late  chap," 
he  chuckled,  "look  at  that  buzz 
wagon  clipping  it  along!" 

80 


(CC 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 


The  khaki-clad  ranks  were 
inarching  in  evolutions  that  she 
could  not  understand.  By  com- 
panies they  marched  up  to  a  little 
group  of  men.  Then,  after  some 
ceremony  which  she  was  too  far 
away  to  comprehend  they  marched 
away  again. 

'*They  are  taking  the  Federal 
oath,"  said  Sanders.  "I'll  bet  that 
chap's  doin'  his  best  licks  to  get  in 
in  time  to  take  his." 

Following  the  direction  of  the 
boy's  finger  she  could  see  an  auto- 
mobile, a  cloud  of  dust  in  its  wake, 
recklessly  plunging  down  the  road. 
She  recognized  the  car. 

"Say,   what's  that   feller   doin' 

81 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

with  his  gun?"  cried  the  boy.  "He 
ain't  pointing  it  at  the  chauffeur 
in  front,  he's  pointing  it  at  the 
tires ;  has  he  got  a  jag  on,  or  what's 
the  matter?" 

But,  in  a  flash,  what  really  had 
happened  appeared  clearly  enough 
to  Ellen  Hardy.  Her  boy  had  dis- 
covered the  trickery  of  his  driver 
and  had  forced  him  to  continue  on 
the  way  by  threatening  to  shoot  his 
tires  and  then  to  send  his  comrades 
to  punish  the  chauffeur. 

"Going  some,"  chuckled  San- 
ders. "Wonder  which  company 
he's  trying  to  catch?"  The  automo- 
bile turned  into  the  turf  and  reeled 
wildly  over  the  uneven  ground. 

82 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN  ANSWERED 

She  saw  Victor  spring  from  the 
car  and  race  forward.  A  company, 
which  had  just  marched  from  a 
group  of  guns  and  Was  standing 
at  attention,  she  was  sure  was  Vic- 
tor's company. 

**They  are  taking  the  oath,"  said 
Sanders. 

''I  do  solemnly  swear  that  I  will 
hear  true  faith  and  allegiance  to 
the  United  States  of  America  and 
that  I  will  serve  them  honestly  and 
faithfully  against  all  their  enemies 
whomsoever/' 

His  boyish  voice  took  on  a  sol- 
emn, almost  reverent  cadence.  He 
knew  by  heart  the  oath  that  he  had 
longed  so  ardently  to  take.  Ellen 

83 


AND   THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWERED 

• 

Hardy  caught  her  breath;  she 
could  no  longer  see  her  boy's  fig- 
ure because  of  the  soldiers  march- 
ing between.  All  at  once  she  heard 
a  sound  like  a  cheer. 

"He's  got  there,"  shouted  San- 
ders, "he's  got  there  in  time!" 

But  Ellen  Hardy  was  not  cer- 
tain. Not  until  later,  when  the  men 
had  broken  ranks  and  her  boy  ran 
toward  her  and  took  her  into  his 
arms.  His  eyes  were  blazing;  he 
was  smiling.  And  with  a  thrill, 
half  pang  and  half  pride,  she  real- 
ized that  it  was  not  her  boy  whom 
she  had  shielded  and  worshiped 
and  tried  to  mold  into  her  own 
way  of  thinking,  but  a  man,  his 

84 


AND  THE   CAPTAIN   ANSWEEED 

father's  son,  his  grandfather's 
pride,  who  was  holding  her  in  such 
a  strange,  masterful  way. 

"I  couldn't  help  it,  mother 
dear,"  he  cried.  "Father — grand- 
father—" 

"I  know,"  said  his  mother,  "they 
have  won.  You  got  there  in  time  I 
Oh,  thank  God!" 


THE  END 


\ 


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